It's the phone

I was thinking yesterday, while my mind was in its all too frequent neutral and I was walking under the sky that you can see in the post below, that everyone thinks text speak is a new invention. Well obviously on a mobile phone it is new, but perhaps its roots go further back than some might imagine. I can remember the little rhyme below that my mother taught me when I was young, and believe you me that is way before mobile phones were even a figment even the most fevered imagination. We, like everyone else, had that standard black bakelite model with the round dial that I still miss. There was a joy to dialling and waiting for the dail to reset to zero with its clicking noise so you could stick your finger in the next number and spin it round to the stop. The handset was joined to the base by a brown plaited fabric-covered cord. None of this curly nonsense.

A phone call was something special then. An 'event'. And phones had a good sturdy ring ring to them. It was a romantic sound, and its rarity made it an exciting one.

While I don't necessarily hanker for the old days, I do sometimes wish that we could keep the phone for those special calls. The familiarity with which total strangers feel able to intrude into our homes with their desire to make us make them rich is, er, tiring. Thanks goodness for the telephone preference service (highly recommended) which works. Apart from a notable exception: the blasted Carphone Warehouse. I loathe them. And always have, from way before they though they could call me anytime day or night.

Anyway, returning somewhat abruptly to the point:

2 Ys U R
2 Ys U B
I C U R
2 Ys 4 Me

Anyone got any more?